


Mercy

by Sparcina



Series: Transcending Works (Erotic RPFs) [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, Comfort, First Time, M/M, Making love during a storm, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Season/Series 03, Season 3 Finale, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 03:41:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4690769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/pseuds/Sparcina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the cliff by the sea, Hugh Dancy does ache for Mads Mikkelsen, the Hannibal to his Will, and the only man for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mercy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alysana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alysana/gifts).



**AN** : Feel too much angst to continue Dark Blood under the Moonlight right now. A little gift for another Fannibal. I don't own ‘Mercy’ (the lyrics are in italics), which belongs to IAMX, nor Hannibal, which Bryan Fuller has been merciful enough to render beautiful.

This fall was the hardest scene he had ever played for Hannibal.  

That was Hugh’s thought, amongst darker considerations, as he sat on a rock by the cliff. Rain poured over his head, gliding down his cheeks, but he hardly sensed the cold or the dampness. The only thing that came close to register—no, that tore his heart in two bloody chunks of dread and sorrow—was the emptiness and the regret blistering his veins. His skin hurt. It was too thick, too painful to wear, be it a single more day. He yearned to cut it all and stand upon the corpse of his chrysalis, clad in only blood and bones, small and pitiful under the throng of lightning.

He hugged his knees. He was shaking, but just as he didn’t care for hunger or sleep, he didn’t worry about doubtful health habits.

"Hey." Mads squatted beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Squeezed. "You ok?"

That voice hurt, too. In that moment, Hugh understood that Mads had been watching over him, that the last grains of timely sand hadn’t left for the past without an acknowledgement of his state by a friendly face.

The emptiness pulled harder at his heart. The organ was no more cut in two, but crushed to pieces, like the glass of a window struck by an angry fist. Now that the show was over, it hardly matter how he felt, did it?

“You should get inside, Hugh. You’re freezing.” The hand on his shoulder became a strong arm around his waist. “Hugh.”

He didn’t move but shook harder. "You feel it too, don't you?"

“The emptiness?”

Hugh had to bite the inside of his cheek not to cry. Mads knew exactly how to evoke the feelings required for his acting, and more to the point, he understood how Hugh was—he understood his mind, just like Hannibal had grasped Will’s needs and nurtured them.

“I don’t want to leave.”

“I understand.”

Hugh turned in Mads’ embrace. “Do you really?”

His breath caught. When had the man pressed him so tightly against his chest? He found himself in a stupor of wonder as the two halves of his heart slid against each other, attempting a scar.

“Yes.” The whisper was low, a vow to convince. Hugh’s fragile heart ached at the sorrow in Mads’ eyes, at what they implied and how much it comforted him.

“ _I'm frail in the kill by submission and will that you bring me._ ” The words escaped Hugh’s mouth, full of the tension he still felt having brought Will to completion.

Thunder rolled at the horizon. Lightning cut wounds through the black sky, blinding Hugh for the space of one blissful second. If he could have returned back and time and convinced his self to open up earlier, even if it had meant rejection, he would have. But now, at the end…

Mads’ eyes gleamed. One of his hands found Hugh’s nape. Caressed. Hugh had to close his eyes. What if one of the crew wandered and found them wanting?

What, really? He leaned his brow against Mads’, suddenly wishing he had not kissed Mads for the first time during the filming earlier, and knowing he couldn’t have done differently. The moment had been dark and perfect—a carbon copy of his headiest dreams.

“ _When I'm nothing but ego you slap me to let go and sleep free_ ,” Mads crooned in his ear.

Hugh’s laugh was sad but honest. “I didn’t think you knew that song.”

“Mercy?” Mads’ lips brushed the shell of his hear. “Of course I know mercy.”

His deft hands found the first button of Hugh’s shirt and flicked it open. He bent his head lower, to trace the outline of Hugh’s jawline with his lips. Those kisses were open-mouthed, hungry and precious. Mads was a wonder to behold, so incredibly empathic at his feet under the stormy sky.

“Mads…” Hugh grabbed Mads’ wrists, not to stop him, but to steady himself. “Mads…”

The lips closed over his throat. Hugh threw his head back as need uncoiled in his loins. Rain slapped him in the face hard and cold, echoing the turmoil of his insides backfiring.

 “ _When I smell your skin, you just make my whole world weep_ ,” Mads growled. He broke the last button of his shirt and flipped the lapels of the damp fabric to the sides, exposing Hugh’s stomach. _“I'm at your feet. It's the shining of you that just breaks me in two like a lifeline._ ”

Hugh gasped, too shocked to think that such words could come from Mads’ mouth. They were nevertheless true, they sounded true, and heavily-accented, so very sensual. He sank his nails in the other man’s shoulders and tried not to break apart.

It did matter how he felt, after all… did it?

“ _You’re my lifeline_ ,” he breathed, the first tears smearing his cheeks. “Everything and all I need is you.”

“Those are not the lyrics.” Mads lifted his head to stare at him.

His pupils were blown wide. A profound darkness lurked in their depths, of a nature only Hugh had caught a glimpse in Will’s skin.

It was possession. It was devotion. It was everything Hannibal, Mads, had ever wanted for them. He fisted a hand in Mads’ shirt, tearing at the seam of the wet fabric, and pulled at it until their faces were only an inch apart. They were both breathing hard, in synchrony.

“No, they are not the lyrics.”

“Those are your words.”

“It is me for you.” Hugh was sobbing when Mads’ hand cupped his chin, gentle and steady. Mads had always been the more stable of the two of them. “Nothing more and nothing else, Mads.”

Hannibal’s smile graced Mads’ lips. “I have waited a long time to hear these words from you, Hugh.”

Surprise didn’t last; their lips crashed, replacing it with joy and awe.

Their mouths fitted perfectly together, moving in shared bliss and urgency of what would one day be called habit, but right then held the name of passion. Their tongues stroke and slid and licked with all the words left unsaid and the thoughts repressed. Lips bruised and bled as moans skimmed over them.

“ _If you bond with me_ …” Hugh sobbed and laughed and panted as his pants were removed. The expression on Mads’ face was so potent it begged every emotion out of his chest, raw and unadulterated. In that moment of communion, Hugh would have felt equal love for Mads had the other man broken his ribs and opened his chest to his hammering heart. He would have continued to kiss him, hands fanned on his marred chest, had Mads brought the beating cage to his mouth and consumed it.

He wanted to be swallowed and eaten whole. He wanted to die in those arms.

“ _I could make your whole world sweet_ ,” Mads chanted, smoothing the cold skin of his inner thighs. He lowered his mouth, intent to kiss the ultimate proof of Hugh’s feelings. “ _I'm on my knees._ Kun for dig, kærlighed.”

“Mads!”

The Danish had pulled his tip in his mouth and pushed one finger up his entrance, slick with rain and tears. Hugh opened to him, all barriers down and no compromise. The storm hadn’t calmed in the slightest; it increased in sound and light, a kaleidoscope very much like the device Hannibal had used to subjugate Will to this greater plan. It was a work of hypnotism and mesmerism that found Hugh completely submitted.

“I was so afraid you were already gone,” Mads panted, a red cheek on his thigh, two fingers stretching him up slowly, preparing him. “I felt very much like Hannibal did when he decided to give himself over to the FBI.”

“You felt trapped.”

“Not quite. I only went to find you and make sure you would have no mean of escaping me.”

“Now or then?”

“Both.”

Hugh squirmed on the rock. It bit his skin, its pain mirrored by the scissoring fingers inside him. Mads added a third finger and took him back in his mouth.

Hugh let him. Really, he was his to do what he wanted. Any certitude of the contrary had been an illusion, a dam to hold back his feelings during the filming over the last years, when he believed Mads couldn’t possibly return his love.

And now here they were, making love in the storm. Celebrating.

“Hugh…” Mads rose to his feet, and in one painful glide, they were one.

It hurt and it felt so good Hugh felt a surge of guilt. His hips jerked in Mads’ hands as his body was override with tremors. There would be bruises on his skin in the morning, and he wouldn’t be able to walk normally, not if Mads kept slamming like _that_ inside him, but protests were so far away from his mind they could as well have belonged to another world entirely.

“Hugh.” Mads’ features had turned sharper, his jawline and cheeks highlighted by the sharp bolts of heat scarring the clouds. He looked beautiful, more stunning then any sculpture of Michelangelo. His fine bones had not been carved out of marble, but of timeless affection.

The force of Mads’ might, over him all that time, struck Hugh to the core. When his lover’s hips languidly rolled to reach him _here_ , he wanted to beg.

“Please…” _Stay. With me._

Mad’s thumb brushed his throat. “Do you see?” Hannibal’s words in Mads’ mouth, and they rang true.

“I see you…” And as the tension increased, as Mads speeded up his strokes and claimed him, finally, Hugh’s only thought was that mercy existed for the fallen.

_When the grey turns to black and the wave's on my back, you make me smile._

**AN** : Here. My heart’s raw. Goodnight, Fannibals.


End file.
